


with her sweetened breath (and her tongue so mean)

by likebrightness



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 05, post-ep, probably happier than it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm sorry,” Lauren says between kisses. “I'm sorry I said that.” She pushes her hips into Tasmin's. “You've sacrificed. I didn't know how much.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	with her sweetened breath (and her tongue so mean)

 

“I'm sorry,” Lauren says between kisses. “I'm sorry I said that.” She pushes her hips into Tasmin's. “You've sacrificed. I didn't know how much.”

Tamsin kisses her. She doesn't want to think about that, be reminded of it. She's spent so many lives being selfish. She didn't care about anyone else. Half of her is furious she's let herself get soft, the other half appalled that it took her so long. Her sacrifices for Bo, for the whole gang, they seem like nothing compared to all the destruction she's brought over the centuries.

She flips them, presses Lauren back into the counter for a moment before lifting her to sit on it instead. Lauren smiles, and Tasmin's sure she's making a mental note about Valkyrie strength. She kisses her again, like maybe it'll shut off both their minds.

-

They got Kenzi back. They got her. They opened her coffin and she shot out of it, breathing way too hard than was probably a good idea for being stuck somewhere with limited air. She was Kenzi, talking a mile a minute and hugging them—Tamsin first, called her Tam Tam and Tamsin did _not_ cry—and the first thing she wanted to do was go to Trick’s and see if she still had a free tab even after she had _died_.

Tamsin had to take a shower first—fighting her way out of Valhalla and then digging up a grave and she ended up filthy, what a surprise. She’d just gotten dressed when Lauren showed up. She was also freshly showered, somehow with her hair blown dry perfectly, too, but she still looked a little ragged.

She was trying to say something, explain something, but Tamsin didn’t let her get farther than the fact that she and Dyson had trespassed into Valhalla. That tidbit had been left out when Tamsin met up with them at Kenzi’s grave.

“You _what_?!” Tamsin might have been screeching. “Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?! Do you have any idea—what am I supposed to do if you and Dyson—I can't—“

Lauren put her hands on Tasmin's shoulders. “I'm going to kiss you now.”

Tamsin had no idea what was going on, but Lauren looked banged up, and Tamsin's adrenaline was still spiked, terrified for Lauren and Dyson, for what could have happened, the worst that could have happened, even though it didn't, since Lauren was there in front of her, but it _could have_ , and they couldn't do this shit to her, now that she actually found people she cared about—and so she said, “Okay.”

And Lauren had kissed her.

-

And now they're here, Tamsin between Lauren's legs, kissing desperate. Her hair’s dripping all over both of them; she didn’t do a good job towel drying it before Lauren showed up.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren says again.

“Shut up.”

Tamsin doesn’t know what Lauren knows now, about anything she sacrificed, doesn’t know who told her. It doesn’t matter. She wonders if kissing someone will ever be normal again. If she’ll ever be allowed to just enjoy it and not worry about her friend who’s stuck in Valhalla still or her friend who just came back from the dead or whatever the fuck else is going to happen. She wants to be able to lose herself in this, not just for the moment but for days, without having to come up for air or to kill some Under Fae. She wants to kiss and kiss and not have anything in the back of her mind.

Lauren gathers Tamsin’s hair in both hands. Tamsin wishes she had dried it better. Then Lauren twists it between her fists, squeezing the water out, soaking Tamsin’s back.

“What the—” Tamsin shrieks, tries to jerk away but Lauren’s moved her hands back to her shoulders, holding her close and laughing at her. 

“I’m sorry,” she says one more time, only for this it’s obvious that she is completely not sorry. Her grin is more laugh than smile. “It was too tempting.”

Tamsin could be pissed, the back of her shirt soaked and clinging to her, making her shiver, but Lauren is so close, and so warm; being mad doesn’t really seem worth it. Instead, she says, “There are better ways to get me wet.”

Lauren laughs again. Tamsin shakes her hair back in front of her shoulders, makes sure to drip all over Lauren as she kisses her.

Lauren’s hands are cold and damp. She is unnaturally good at multitasking—those hands skimming over Tamsin’s arms while she kisses her so thoroughly Tamsin has to press their foreheads together and take a second to breathe. Lauren bites at her jaw. Tamsin thought she’d have the upper hand here—Lauren on the counter, off her feet, no leverage—but instead Lauren gets her legs around her waist tight enough that she can’t do much more than rock against her.

They kiss soft but intense. Concentrated. Tamsin is both focused and not; she’s focused on Lauren, sure, but her brain bounces from the other woman’s lips and tongue and teeth to arms and hands to the heat of her to how soft her cheek is beneath Tamsin’s fingers. She’d like to get her to a bed.

But Kenzi is waiting at The Dal and Bo is lost in Valhalla and when Lauren looks at her there’s still more empathy in her eyes than Tamsin can stand.

“I’m going to go down on you now,” Tamsin tries to match the matter-of-fact way Lauren announced she was going to kiss her at the beginning of this.

Lauren arches an eyebrow at her. “We’re supposed to be meeting Kenzi.”

“Promise I’ll be quick.” She drops to her knees as Lauren laughs.

Lauren’s jeans are tight, but they’re easy enough to get down, her underwear coming with them. Tamsin only pulls them over one ankle, doesn’t care if they dangle off the other or fall to the ground, as long as she can get at Lauren’s cunt. She licks a stripe up her center.

Lauren still laughs, but ends on a moan. “You weren’t kidding about quick.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Tamsin says, close enough to Lauren’s clit to make her hips jerk, “it’ll be good.”

She’s going to have to force it if this is going to be quick. The tang of Lauren on her tongue and the dig of her heel into her back—Tamsin could do this all day. She could be lazy and slow, spread Lauren’s sticky sweetness up and down her thighs, could spend hours painting her legs with smeared kisses and sharp bites. She allows herself three unhurried licks before swirling her tongue around Lauren’s clit.

Lauren clenches a hand in Tamsin’s hair again; a few rivulets of water find their way down her scalp before Lauren pulls her hand away, breathless and smiling.

“Sorry, forgot, water.”

Tamsin smirks. “You’re already at incomplete sentences?”

“Shut up,” Lauren says.

Tamsin takes a moment to revel in Lauren’s white knuckles against the lip of the counter before getting her mouth on her again.

Yes, Tamsin could do this all day, could go slow, but also Lauren tastes so good it’s not hard to go fast, to roll her tongue everywhere she can, to close her lips around her clit, to lick and suck and bite and find the best ways to make Lauren moan. Her hands are still clutching the edge of the counter, her hips doing these little pulses forward like she can’t stop herself. Tamsin bites the inside of her thigh.

“God, _please_ , Tamsin.”

She’s going to need to hear Lauren say her name like that about a thousand more times. It makes her slide her tongue down and _in_ and _up_ , enough that she can feel Lauren clench around it. Her hips are still jumping; she’s basically riding Tamsin’s face at this point, and Tamsin think it might be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to her. She pushes her tongue deeper, wraps her arm far enough around Lauren’s thigh that she can press a thumb against her clit.

Lauren says her name again, even _better_ this time, and actually laughs her way through her orgasm, like this isn’t just good—it’s _fun_ , too.

Tamsin makes sure Lauren is steady on the counter before she stands up. She shakes the ache out of her knees. Lauren smiles and looks down, that self-deprecating look she gets so often that annoys the fuck out of Tamsin because it just makes her look more perfect. She kisses her to get it off her face.

“Quick enough for you?” 

Lauren tugs her back for another kiss. “Not bad,” she says after. “But we’re still late. Go change your shirt.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a bitch,” Tamsin says, but she’s smiling.

 

 


End file.
